


And if the World Should Fall Apart

by ShaneVansen



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M, h/c, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneVansen/pseuds/ShaneVansen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if the world should fall apart, hold on to what you know. -- Lifehouse, Chapter One. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/64504">Fractured</a>, which is an ep tag to <i>Epiphany</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And if the World Should Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> [Fractured](http://archiveofourown.org/works/64504) and AITWSFA were both written before Epiphany ever aired, so there are parts that don't mesh with canon.
> 
> Someone who volunteered to beta this way back when did an absolutely _fabulous_ job of getting me to focus more on the emotions of the fic and gave me general advice that I believe has improved my writing overall. Thank you, Christi.
> 
> Originally posted to LJ July 2006.

John awoke with a start, unsure what had awakened him or even, for a few semi-panicked seconds, where he was. He'd been sleeping on his left side, facing Elizabeth; she was still asleep on her back, though she had twisted slightly in his direction. After a few seconds more he remembered why he was in her room, in her bed, his arm lying possessively across her stomach, in the middle of the night.

He propped himself up on one arm so that he could look down at Elizabeth. The curtains hadn't been drawn and faint light from the city filtered through the window, allowing John to recognize the outline, if not the details, of her features.

He'd missed her the time he'd been gone. He'd missed everyone else too, of course, but he hadn't realized just how much he'd missed Elizabeth until he'd stepped back through the Stargate for the first time in nearly a year, saw her standing there, and suddenly wanted nothing more than for her to hug him like she had after his unexpected return from what was supposed to have been a suicide mission.

But she hadn't done that. In the time he'd spent with the Cloister he had done his best to build a life among strangers, going so far as to spend most of his nights with Teer until she'd figured out – before he had – his inability to completely let go of the hope of rescue. Though it had made his time there that much harder, his faith in his team had paid off when McKay had shown up. By then a year had passed, and from Atlantis' point of view he might as well have gone to the mainland for the morning. He could still only barely grasp that by the end of the week, most of the people he'd spent the better part of a year living with would be dead of old age.

John forced his mind away from thoughts of his absence and refocussed on the face of the woman asleep beside him. Giving in to a desire he'd had for far too long he lifted the arm stretched across her waist, touching his fingers to her cheek. He traced along its curve to her lips, parted in sleep, the solidity of touch helping to ground him in the present. Moving his hand higher he brushed her hair off her forehead. Her head turned slightly, into his touch, and John repeated the motion several times more, remembering the time he'd caught her doing the very same to her ten thousand-year-old self.

His fingers moved back to Elizabeth's cheek and then froze when he noticed that she was awake and watching him. She lay still, watching him silently, and John found himself wishing there were more light so he could read her expression.

Elizabeth moved first, though she did nothing more than rest her hand on his bicep. His chest suddenly tight with terror and longing and need, John was utterly still for all of a second before lowering his lips to hers.

Their first kiss was light, hesitant, but then her fingers tightened on his arm and John shuddered, threading his fingers through her hair to hold her still for a second, more exploratory, kiss.

The second kiss became a third, which melted into a fourth, until John had lost track of everything except the warmth of the woman beneath him. Slowly, he sank down over her, his upper body almost completely covering hers, one of his legs settling between both of Elizabeth's. One leg wrapped over his, her hand slipping beneath his shirt to run up his back, and John broke away from her with a moan as his hips instinctively pressed more firmly against her thigh.

Breathing heavily, John dropped his forehead to the pillow, his mouth next to Elizabeth's ear. "Tell me to stop," he pleaded in a whisper. "Tell me to leave." Because he was about to do something unforgivably stupid and he needed this, needed her, too much to make himself stop.

Elizabeth didn't say anything. Instead, she reached for the hand resting on her hip and brought it up to her breast, arching into his touch when his thumb reflexively brushed over her nipple. With a needy, desperate sound that John barely recognized as coming from his own throat, he crushed his lips to hers.

The hand that still rested on his own tightened, encouraging him to knead her breast, and all semblance of John's self-control fled. He followed Elizabeth's lead, learning what she liked by how she directed his hand and by the soft sounds she made. Shifting down her body he captured a cloth-covered nipple between his teeth and bit gently, feeling himself flush with arousal at her low moan.

John managed to tear his lips from her body long enough to push up her pyjama top, immediately lowering his mouth back to her breast, even as he felt her strip off the shirt altogether. His teeth closed over her carefully, his tongue flicking over her nipple, and to his satisfaction Elizabeth arched into his touch once again.

Shifting his weight to his left arm, John slid his right hand down from her breast, ghosting over her stomach and sliding beneath the waist of her pyjama bottoms. He hesitated slightly, doubt about what they were doing stilling his hand until Elizabeth raised her hips towards him. Lowering his head, John kissed her just before his fingers moved the final few centimeters, slipping between her legs to stroke her slick heat and feeling her gasp into his mouth.

His hand moved lower still, his middle finger sliding deep inside her, and he felt her shiver before she started moving rhythmically against his hand, shuddering lightly with every brush of his thumb against her clit. Distracted by the almost inconceivable realization that he was, in fact, the one making her moan like that, it took several minutes for John to notice that his hips were thrusting against her thigh in time with her own movements.

John pulled his hand and mouth away with a low moan, fumbling with her pants and yanking them down and off her legs before stripping off his own t-shirt and sweatpants. He knelt between her legs, running his hands from her hips to her knees, which he grasped lightly, pushing up and out. Planting his hands on either side of her waist, he hooked her legs over his arms before leaning forward. Looking down at Elizabeth, John found himself wishing again that there was enough light to see her face clearly; though she was spread wide beneath him, somehow he felt as though he were the one being exposed.

His scattered thoughts stumbled to a halt when a gentle hand closed over his erection. He stared down at her as best he could in the darkness but couldn't keep his eyes from slipping shut when her thumb swept over the head of his penis. She repeated the motion several times more, and John was breathing raggedly by the time she guided him into her body.

He sank into her slowly, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to last long with the heat of her surrounding him. He gathered together what self-control he could, fighting to hold still, but then Elizabeth shifted beneath him and made a sound deep in her throat, and John was lost. With a helpless groan he dropped his head and started to move.

Though they'd never done this before – had never even come close – being with Elizabeth this way felt frighteningly familiar. The feel of her fingers flexing on his back with every thrust; the scent of her, recognizable even after so long away; the taste of her sweat on his tongue… these things felt like _home_ to him more than anything else on Atlantis. Distantly, coherent thought all but gone, he wished he knew how to tell her that.

As he'd predicted, it wasn't long before his movements became erratic and uncontrolled. When Elizabeth slid a hand down to touch him where they came together he shuddered, letting go of one of her legs to reach up and fist his hand in her hair, holding her still as he kissed her, hard. Her freed leg came up to wrap high around his waist, one of her hands still caught between them, the other cupping the back of his neck, holding him to her as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

John moved his lips down her neck, biting hard enough at where it curved into her shoulder that he knew there would be marks in the morning. The hand in her hair moved down her body, beneath her lower back, adjusting the angle of penetration, and Elizabeth made that sound again, the throaty one that he was beginning to realize meant he'd done something right. Subtle yet distinctive, he caught a change in her rhythm and did his best to match it – a bit slower, definitely deeper and more deliberate. A handful of thrusts was all it took before she contracted around him. John couldn't stop staring at her because even though he could barely make out her features, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen – this was _Elizabeth Weir_ trembling beneath his body, holding him tight, and what the hell had he done right to ever get this lucky? And then she arched her back, the nails of one hand scraping over his nipple with just the right pressure, and he wasn't thinking anything. Body spasming, he bit the curve of her neck again in a futile attempt to keep from shouting as he came.

He did his best to collapse to the side so he wouldn't crush Elizabeth, who was panting for breath. He reached blindly for her hand, succumbing to the familiar post-coital lassitude until his brain caught up to what he had just done.

John stiffened involuntarily as it began to sink in exactly what had happened. There were a hundred different reasons why he and Elizabeth had never moved beyond semi-serious flirting and in the space of an hour, he had very likely screwed up the most important relationship of his adult life. Struggling to breathe, he turned on his side, facing away from her.

"John?"

As quiet as it was, he started slightly at her voice; and it was only at that moment that it occurred to him that she hadn't said a single word since she'd awakened to find him playing with her hair.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, not realizing until he'd spoken how those words might be interpreted.

She seemed to understand his intent, however, because a gentle hand touched his back. "We'll figure it out," she said softly.

Inhaling deeply, John held his breath for a moment before letting it out as a sigh and turning onto his back, reaching for her hand again. She propped herself up on her other arm, looking down at him in much the same way he'd been watching her not so long ago, and he reached up to touch her cheek. "Why?" he found himself asking, not quite sure what answer he was looking for. Why had she let him into her room tonight? Why bring him into her bed, allow him into her body? Why him, why now?

There was a whisper of a sigh before she turned her face into his hand. "You know why," she told him, quietly, her lips tickling his palm, and he thought maybe he did know; perhaps had known from nearly the time they'd first met. Chest and throat tight he drew Elizabeth down against him, arms wrapped around her with a desperation he'd thought eased with his earlier release. Her even breath against his neck calmed him, until she pulled away.

"I need to clean up." A hand touched his face. "Will you be here when I get back?"

It wasn't so much a question, John realized, as a request. Inexplicably, this first indication of her uncertainty about what had happened between them made him feel less unbalanced, and he brushed his fingers across her lips, unable to stop touching her. "I'll be here," he promised, silencing the part of him that wanted to run.

She slid out of bed and he listened as she crossed the room, the sound of running water following a few seconds later. By the time she returned, he'd pulled on his sweatpants and found the pillow, which had been knocked to the floor. When he lifted the bedcovers she slipped beneath them to curl up against his side, an arm draped across his stomach and one thigh crooked over his. He found her hand again, and listened as she fell asleep, breathing quietly against his shoulder.

_\--end--_


End file.
